An Atomic Unconscious
By Hannah Parker
The year is 1950. A young woman sits on a park bench, a file of letters lying open on her legs. She is not reading them. Her eyes are fixed on the fog in the distance, as if something, someone, will step out of the fog and redeem her forever.
But the fog remains unchanged. Emptiness surrounds her. Loneliness. The wind picks up, fluttering the pages of the letters, starting a cadence of flimsy paper and wind. She sets the file aside. “Daniel,” She sputters, tears pricking at her eyes.
And that’s when she sees him, appearing from in the fog. The young woman jumps to her feet. “Daniel!” She takes off, running for him. “Daniel!” She screams, throwing her arms out to grab him.
Her arms slice through air. Daniel’s figure fades into the fog. Only an apparition. “Daniel,” she whispers, her knees falling to the ground. The fog circles around her. She is one with it now. Her file is far away now. Reality is gone. It’s just her, crumpled upon the grass of the park, the fog of the early morning seeping into her lungs, suffocating her.
Her eyes adjust to a barren, dim room. Her hands are confined, handcuffed to the table. She looks up, wide-eyed, at a figure standing before her. Where is she? Where’s Daniel?
The figure steps into the dim lighting. He’s an older man. Donning a suit. His eyebrows are thick, furrowed. Ada can see the reflection of the two of them in the mirror behind him. An interrogation room? “Miss Penrose,” the man’s voice sounds frustrated when he says this. His jaw and fists are clenched. “Please. Tell us what you know about Los Alamos.” Despite the man's formality, Ada knows that he’s not kindly asking her. This isn’t a suggestion or a question. This is a command.
“Los Alamos?” Ada repeats, racking her brain for the two words. They sound so familiar, on the tip of her tongue almost. She sees the words in typed lettering. It surfaces in her brain. “I remember seeing that somewhere…” Ada drifts off, struggling to remember.
The man's hands slam onto the interrogation table, the light above them flickering. “You remember. Tell us. What were you doing in Los Alamos?” He moves closer to Ada, his breath hot and sticky on her face. “What were you doing with Daniel?”
Ada struggles against the handcuffs, panic setting into her. “I don’t know!” She cries, slumping against the back of her chair. “I can’t remember!” Hot tears trickle down her face, plopping onto that interrogation table, puddling.
“You don’t have to remember, Ada,” a voice whispers into the room. The man before her stiffens as a fog billows in, Daniel’s silhouette accompanying it. “You don’t have to remember,” Daniel repeats, moving toward Ada, his hand caressing her cheek. The fog rises up further now, the man from before completely lost in it.
Ada looks down. Her hands are uncuffed. She’s standing in the fog. Daniel is before her, his eyes kind, a smile on his lips. “You don’t have to remember,” he says one last time before she too is lost in the fog.
Ada wakes up in a cold sweat. Someone is moaning. Is it her? She cannot tell. “Miss Penrose? Miss Penrose?” a voice beckons for her. Her eyes adjust to her surroundings. She lies in a white bed, surrounded by white walls, a needle in her arm, a drip by her head. The white room spins around here, so austere, so clean.
“Where am I?” Ada whispers, her eyes moving to a figure in a white lab coat, standing before her. He smiles down at Ada, his eyes wrinkling. He seems kinder than the last man. What happened to him? What happened to Daniel?
“Miss Penrose, or may I call you Ada?” the doctor queries. Ada nods. “Ada, I am very sorry for Mr. Morris’s behavior.” So that’s who that man was. “I am Dr. Flores,” the doctor introduces, “I am here to help you remember.”
At the word “remember,” Ada jumps to a sitting position, grabbing the blankets tightly into her clasp. “I already told that Mr. Morris! I can’t remember!”
The doctor gently touches Ada’s arm. “I know. I know it’s hard for you. Especially after what he did to your brain. I--We are very sorry for that. But we are so glad it didn’t do as much damage as he had thought. Your brain is going to be fine, Ada! And in fact,” Dr. Flores reassures, coaxing Ada back down onto the bed, “Mr. Morris told me you did remember something.”
The typeface of “Los Alamos” surfaces in Ada’s brain once again. The letters are against a manila, a sort of a file. “A file!” Ada breathes out in relief. “It was typed on a file!” Her brain stretches. “I saw it in Central Park…” Ada remembers Daniel appearing in Central Park. “Daniel came, and I…”
“Daniel!” the doctor seems to jump at these words. He rushes over to a desk in the corner of the austere room, quickly grabbing a hold of a notepad and a pen. Dr. Flores scribbles something down, mumbling a few words under his breath, “His apparition… blocking... keeps her… memory.” Dr. Flores sets the notepad and pen back down. “If you could please continue,” Dr. Flores adds, his back to her.
Ada nods. “Daniel came, and after that, I lost the file,” Ada falters, “then I lost Daniel.”
A hand grabs her own.
“You didn’t lose me.”
Ada gasps, looking up at the lab coat above her. But this isn’t Dr. Flores. This man’s face is different. His eyes are no longer aging, surrounded by crow’s feet, but they are bright, searching, eyes she’s stared into forever. Ada immediately reaches up, caressing the side of his face. “Daniel,” she breathes, moving to lace her fingers into his hair. Her hand falls down into her lap.
The fog is back.
And he is gone.
She’s back in Central Park. It’s different this time. Full. Bright. She’s wearing different clothes. A pack is on her back, books are in her hand.
“Hattie! Evelyn! Over here!” the words escape from her mouth. But she didn’t say them. Two girls skip over to her. Packs are on their backs. Books are in their hands. They are wearing similar clothes as she. The tweed skirts. The stark blouses.
Ada remembers these girls. These are her friends from Barnard. Is she trapped in a memory? Hattie twirls a lock of her dark brown hair, turning away from Ada, looking off in the distance. “Is that him?” Hattie wonders, inclining her head toward a man far off, with brass curls and bright eyes.
He looks so young. Ada wishes to scream. But she is confined by the memory. She can’t run toward him. She can’t hug him, touch him. Instead, her mouth responds, “Yes. That’s him.”
“Daniel Kraus is a Columbian man huh?” Evelyn comments, swooping in to stare at him. “I thought we agreed that students from Columbia were off-limits after last time?” Hattie nods her head at Evelyn’s words, both of them turning toward Ada.
Ada finds herself explaining exactly what she wants to say, “Daniel’s different. He’s special. He would never use me.”
Hattie scoffs, crossing her arms, “Honey, all men are the same. Especially the men from Columbia.”
The environment begins to shift as soon as Hattie says this. The memory bleeding around her. The fog begins to set in. Evelyn grabs Ada’s shoulders. “He already used you, Ada. You just have to remember. What were you doing in Los Alamos?” Evelyn’s dark eyes bear into Ada’s soul. What was Ada doing in Los Alamos?
“Don’t listen to her, Ada!” Daniel’s voice interrupts from behind. Ada turns, watching as Daniel’s slim figure rushes towards her.
Hattie and Evelyn grab Ada’s shoulders, turning her back around. “He’s using you, Ada! He has been forever. He messed with your brain. You have to listen to us. You have to remember—“
“Ada!” Daniel declares, pushing Hattie and Evelyn away. “I love you, Ada. Love me,” Daniel whispers, cupping his hands around Ada’s face.
Ada softens, melting into him, “I do love you, Daniel.”
“Then protect me,” Daniel hisses, before his silhouette dissipates into the fog.
Where is she now? This smell is familiar. It wafts into you. It takes over everything. She could taste this smell anywhere.
Los Alamos.
She is here.
Ada turns her attention to the warehouse she is in. The warehouse where she did it. Where she sat, decoding the intelligence. She knew all of the intelligence then. What was it? Why can’t she remember?
“Ada,” Daniel’s voice pierces the echoing silence of the warehouse. It is strange to hear his voice in here. He was never here.
She turns, seeing Daniel’s figure across the warehouse. He stands there, powerful, strong, in control. He remembers. She doesn’t. He has the power. Ada steps forward, her voice loud and clear, “What did you do to me?”
Daniel raises his eyebrows, throwing his hands up. “I loved you, Ada. I did nothing but love you and protect you,” the words slice through the warehouse. They were once a comfort. But now, Ada is no longer sure. Her friends raised suspicion against him. Dr. Flores spoke about him keeping Ada from memory. Even Mr. Morris seemed to spit the word “Daniel” instead of saying it.
“You did something to me,” Ada’s voice starts off shakily. “You think saying that you love me will make all of these other clues go away. But it won’t,” Ada’s voice is sounding more resolute now. She moves forward, moving to close the distance between them. Close proximity speaks volumes. Close proximity tells truths. “You messed with my mind,” Ada declares, so close to Daniel now. She plunges a finger at his chest, pushing him backward. “What did you do?”
Daniel frowns, reaching up for Ada’s face. “What caused this much hate for me, Ada? We’ve been in love since university.”
Ada sidesteps Daniel’s touch. “Have we? Or have I been in love with you since university? And you been using me?” Daniel says nothing at this. Ada clenches her fist. “Tell me why you’ve been using me!”
With her eyes wide with anger, that’s when she spots it. A manila file tucked away in Daniel’s jacket. He did take it from her. Ada relaxes, “You’re right, Daniel.”
Daniel’s eyebrows rise in surprise for just a second before he nods his head. “Of course I am, darling. You were being silly.”
Ada steps toward Daniel, reaching out for him. “I’m sorry that I listened to the others. I should’ve trusted you. You would never do anything to hurt me. You love me.” Daniel nods, accepting Ada’s touch.
“Of course,” Daniel repeats, and Ada folds herself into Daniel’s arms. Just centimeters away from the file. She pushes Daniel’s head into the nook of her shoulder, their bodies pressing closer. Ada’s fingers graze across Daniel’s chest before they snag the crisp feeling of the manila file. Ada fingers close around the folder, and with a grin, she pushes Daniel away, the file freeing with her hand, Daniel stumbling backward.
Daniel stands there, dumbfounded for a moment. Ada before him, the file of letters in her hand. His eyes widen with realization. “You conniving --!” The fog begins to settle in, cutting Daniel off mid-sentence. “No! Not yet!” Daniel screeches, moving towards Ada, trying to run away from the fog.
Ada steps backward, away from Daniel, as the fog consumes him.
This time she’s doesn’t worry where he’s gone.
“Your honor, please give her a moment. We’re trying our hardest to uncover her memories, but with what happened to her brain, it will take some time,” the words of Dr. Flores stir Ada awake.
Her eyes open to blinding lights, the blinding lights of a courtroom. Dr. Flores stands near her, addressing the judge to her side. Mr. Morris is sitting down at a table, papers spilled out before him. Her friends Hattie and Evelyn sit behind him, their expressions shifting as soon as Ada’s eyes lay upon them.
Ada cuts her attention to the other side of the room. He is sitting there. At a table. A flustered man in a suit sits beside him. Daniel looks up at Ada. He looks just how she remembered. His lips stretch into a smile when he sees her. Ada’s eyes cut down to the stand in front of her.
“Dr. Flores, our witness is conscious. You may try once again. But I'm only giving you ten minutes. If she still can't remember, we're moving on with Mr. Kraus's trial,” the judge offers resolutely. Dr. Flores nods his head and moves across the courtroom floor to face Ada.
“Miss Penrose, I mean, Ada," Dr. Flores begins, his voice gentle, as if Ada is fragile, "do you remember anything else that happened at Los Alamos?”
Ada smiles, knowing now that she is no longer fragile. She has the manila file. She took it back. And she remembers all of its contents. The Russian letters she decoded for Daniel. The atomic bombs. The spying. She nods. “Oh, Dr. Flores.
"I remember it all.”
